Waiting for Cary Grant (9 page)

“Why not?”

“It’s hard.”

“What could be hard for a multi-talented lady like you?”

She wanted to tell him about Melvin’s threat but she was scared. Scared for herself. And scared for him. “It’s a leap. I’m sorry, Harlan.” She wanted to tell him. She reached for his arm and felt the sinewy muscles underneath his white silk shirt.

“Sorry for what?” He asked.

“I always thought Plaintiffs were parasites on the food chain.”

He grimaced. “Some are—”

“—not Kathy, I mean—”

“— some are parasites, Stephanie. I agree. But every time I look at Kathy, I want to kill someone.” He smashed his fist into the sofa.

She jumped up and started picking up the scattered papers. Anything to escape this moment. She pulled a trash bag out and began to throw away the amazing amount of clutter she’d accumulated in only forty eight hours of dropping everything on the floor. If she couldn’t clean up her life by telling Harlan, she could at least clean up the house.

“Don’t worry about that now. Sit down,” he said gently.

“I feel like such a mess. Like such a loser.” She started to cry.

“You’re okay.” He rubbed her back.

“Other than being a failure in every aspect of my life, you mean?” She cried.

“I don’t think so. You’re not too bad to look at, you know. And give me that. You’re too good looking to take your own trash out. Men can be useful. You should have one.” He took the trash bag from her.

“Wait,” she said, throwing more papers in the bag.

“Now update your resume. Here’s to you, Stephanie.” He raised his glass in a toast to her.

When he finished his champagne and left, just like a guy, with her trash, Stephanie sat down at her computer.

Harlan Michaels had called her multi-talented. She smiled as she began to update her resume.

M
el nursed a hangover at his desk. He’d stop drinking today. At least, until tonight.

“Someone made copies last night.” Linda’s voice blared several decibels too loud for human contact. Among her self-assigned job duties, Linda counted paper clips, xerox papers and post its for the day she confronted any dangerous office thief.

“I always count the number of blank pages in the xerox room before I go home.” Linda leaned over and caught a whiff of last night’s gin on Melvin’s breath.

“Alright, Linda. Go get me some coffee.” Mel motioned with his hand for her to go away. The old hag was so annoying.

“I thought you’d want to know. I’m still counting.”

“Do it at your desk,” Mel said, smiling at the thought of Stephanie working late oblivious to the ax about to fall on her neck.

“So far, I think over three-hundred sheets of paper are missing,” Linda said.

What had the little bitch taken? Where was she? Melvin wondered.

He tried Stephanie’s phone numbers and listened to her voice mail at each one. Cursing, he threw the phone against the wall. Then he barked at Linda to put it back in its receiver.

“Stephanie was a cute girl,” Linda said.

“I never noticed. To me, she was an attorney. Like all the others.” Mel replied.

“Why did you fire her?” Linda asked.

“I can’t go into specifics.” Mel was starting to sweat. Linda wondered if Mel was an alcoholic. He had the bloated, puffy look of one.

“A good lawyer—”

“—who says she’s a good lawyer?” Melvin’s face reddened.

“Harlan Michaels,” Linda said.

“I don’t give a fuck what Harlan Michaels says! I don’t give a fuck about Harlan Michaels or Stephanie St. Claire!” Melvin fumed. So Harlan had complimented that little bitch.

“M
r. Michaels, would you like to give an opening statement?” Judge Franklin, two-hundred pounds of testosterone, bellowed from the bench.

“Yes, your Honor.” He stood up in an impeccable dark blue Italian suit that draped his body with the reverence usually reserved for statues.

“Wait a minute. Excuse me your Honor. May I approach the bench?” Taylor Stanworth asked.

“This better be important.” Judge Franklin bellowed.

“There hasn’t been a ruling on my motion. This purported Safety Tire memo about a safer multipiece wheel should be excluded. It’s more prejudicial than probative. And he can’t lay the foundation. The supposed writer of it, Adam Banks, is in France and he doesn’t know anything about it.”

“Motion granted. Mr. Michaels, you can’t introduce the memo showing that a safer design would have cost a few bucks more. I won’t allow it.” Judge Franklin commanded.

“Your Honor, that document is my case!”

“I have made my ruling. Proceed Mr. Michaels.”

Harlan slowly walked towards the jury and smiled. He’d go down fighting.

“Good morning Ladies and Gentlemen. This is my opportunity to tell you about the evidence in this case. I’m going to give you a little background in this case. The Slades were a blessed family. Tom and Caroline Slade met as undergraduates at U.S.C. He was in the dental school. She was in the dental hygiene program. Within a few weeks of meeting, they each knew they’d met the person with whom they were destined to spend the rest of their lives.

They married after he graduated. Tom heard about an opportunity here in town for a new dentist. Some of you may have known Dr. Bennet. He was my dentist when I was a kid. That seems like Dinosaur years now. I remember him because he had great parting toys. The receptionist would tell you to pick just one. But I could never decide between two or three. So, he used to come out again and tell me that I could go ahead and take two or three. And I loved him for it.” Harlan Michaels smiled and gave the jury a glimpse of a cute young boy.

“Dr. Bennet was a generous contributor to the community. When he retired to a ranch in Colorado, he couldn’t have been happier to turn his practice over to a newly graduated and married young dentist. And so, the Slades thrived. For the first few years, Caroline worked a couple days a week as a dental hygienist. Then, she had the twins. They were an armful. But the Slades felt doubly blessed. Two beautiful healthy boys, a burgeoning practice for him, she’s able to stay home and devote herself to the boys, could life get any better? Yes. It could. A couple years later, Caroline most unexpectedly found herself pregnant with Kathy. Tom had always wanted a little girl who looked like the wife he loved. They welcomed their baby girl with the comforts that came with a now established practice. Their lives became a happy blur of play dates and camping trips. They were a healthy family, supporting each other while encouraging friendships with others, and independence.

Kathy blossomed into a spunky girl with boundless energy and a capacity to befriend everyone she met. She had the security of a little girl who’s loved by her father. At school, she made straight A’s while starring in her grade’s annual play. The evidence will show that all that has changed. Today, Kathy is painfully shy.

She lives in a boarding school where she does her best to adjust to a new religion and new friends and no bedroom of her own. And don’t get me wrong, I’m not saying this is a stark place right out of a Charles Dickens’ novel. It’s an upscale school run by modern nuns who have a genuine concern for the children placed in their care. But the evidence will show you the difference between being the adored baby in a family and being one of a student body boarded in a convent school because for the most part, their parents and guardians have better things to do than raise them, is overwhelmingly painful.

Tom and Caroline didn’t revel alone in their incredible fortune at health, happiness and financial success. They cared about others. If Grandma needed company, they would be the first to visit.

And so, they went to visit Grandma. Kathy had a play date to go roller blading with a friend she’d met at computer camp the summer before. Tom and Caroline encouraged their children to pursue interests and value friendships. So they let Kathy keep her play date and skip the visit with Grandma. Today, Kathy can’t even bear to communicate with this friend anymore. Her email goes unanswered.

At the time the accident happened, Kathy had a full calendar. From the entire fifth grade class at her school, she had been picked to star in the play for that year. She was a vivacious, intellectually curious, and energetic child. The evidence will show that all of that has changed.

But in their corporate towers, sipping expensive Scotch, they found a way to avoid a multi-million dollar recall. They contributed generously to someone’s campaign.”

“Objection!”said Stanworth as he sprang like an old fashioned jack-in-the-box toy from his chair.

“Mr. Michaels?” asked Judge Franklin.

“On what grounds?” asked Harlan Michaels.

“Counsel, please approach the bench.”

Stanworth turned and glared at Michaels before he sauntered as jauntily as possible up to the bench. Whatever Harlan Michaels may have been feeling, he looked impenetrable and remote.

“I don’t want politics in my courtroom. Be very, very careful about straying into argument during opening statement, counsel. I will not hesitate to knock out any punitive damage award based on jury prejudice. Unless you have direct evidence, you had best stay out of this arena. My courtroom is not a forum for your unsubstantiated liberal diatribe! I will knock out any punitive award by a jury polluted by liberal diatribe!”

“Your Honor, I don’t speak in diatribes. I’m stating what the evidence will show.”

“You be very careful, Mr. Michaels.”

Harlan strode back into the courtroom like a lion reclaiming his jungle. Kathy beamed as Harlan looked at her. Nervous with strangers since the accident, she’d been fidgeting in the hard-back brown chair. Harlan bestowed instant calm.

“I’ve gone to visit Kathy in boarding school. As institutionalized upbringings go, she may be better off than some. Whatever your feeling about their religious bent, give the nuns credit for genuine concern about the welfare of children in their care. I’m going to be showing you a time line through this trial. It will be very important. First, we have the date Safety Tire manufactured these wheels.” Harlan wrote on the board.

“In that same year, Safety Tire recorded two patents that could have been used with this wheel. I say could have been because they weren’t used with the wheel.

And this is very important. The reason they weren’t used, their own former Chief Executive Officer admitted to me in Provence, despite the fact that they were safer, was that they cost more money. A safer patent would have cost exactly a few bucks more. Remember that figure. Because a few bucks made a difference in one family’s life.” Harlan walked over to the chart that had Safety Tire at the top and drew a line through the S so that it became a dollar sign. Sacrifice safety for dollars.

“Without any warning, these wheels were unleashed. And they unpredictably separated causing catastrophic injuries and deaths.

This got the attention of the National Highway Traffic Safety Association. A government agency charged with keeping autos and roads safe for you and me. The investigation of the multiple accidents occurring as a result of the separation of multipiece wheels was considered a top priority.

When the National Highway Traffic Safety Association tells a company that investigation of a dangerous product it manufactures and distributes is a top priority, that puts the company on notice that it could be facing a recall. So what did Safety Tire do? They calculated the cost of a recall and it was nearly one-hundred fifty million dollars. That’s a lot of money.” Harlan traced the dollar sign running through the S in Safety again.

“A psychologist will tell you that Kathy is withdrawn and afraid. Feels guilty for not dying with her family. Maybe, even in the grandiosity that comes with guilt, she thinks that if she had been with her family that day, they wouldn’t have died. Kathy has told me that sometimes she wakes up and wonders where her family is. Sometimes she gets an A at school and wants to run and tell her Dad. Then, she remembers that he’s dead. Kathy has her whole life to remember that he’s dead.

Do you think Safety Tire remembers that he’s dead? Probably no more than they remember the other victims of the dangerous multipiece wheel they put on the road. They don’t remember the other dead victims and grieving families left behind. “

The jury looked angry.

“Before Kathy was even born, the National Traffic Safety Association began investigating the killer wheel problem.”

“Objection, your Honor.” Taylor’s voice sounded high pitched.

“Watch yourself, Mr. Michaels,” The judge admonished.

Harlan turned back to the jury. “The evidence will show you that The National Highway Traffic Safety Association considered investigation of these multipiece wheels a top priority. So what did Safety Tire do? It brought together a team of accountants and executives and bean counters and what have you, and decided they weren’t going to spend the money to make the wheels safer.”

Harlan paused and looked into the eyes of the jury. They were riveted. Not a glazed eye in the box. Like an athlete in top form, Harlan found his center. No one could beat him that day.

“Let me tell you what they do. They contribute over $100,000.00 to the right politicians! And the investigation is closed!”

“Objection! Objection!” Taylor’s adam apple bobbed wildly.

“Counsel, I’d like to see you in chambers.”

“Mr. Michaels, if you don’t have any direct evidence supporting your inflammatory statements, I’m going to declare you in contempt of court.”

“He’s been warned before, your Honor. He’s breaking the rules.”

“I know that Taylor!” Judge Franklin shouted. “You’d better make a direct connection between the sneering way you just mentioned contributions to the campaign of fine American politicians and an issue in this case. Make damn sure you have supporting evidence, Michaels, or I will throw out any punitive damage award in this case! If you ever get that lucky! Don’t you dare prejudice my jury with liberal diatribe. You’ll rue the day you set foot in my courtroom!”